In Flanders Fields

An early start for the 8.30 from St Pancras to Dover before which Pete decides to get a bit of training in via Kings Cross and Euston. So all aboard the fast train to Dover (travel arrangements courtesy of your humble blogger) where we have a taste of the easterly wind to come but find shelter in the garden of a sea view cafe where we stock up on carbs with big breakfasts. Fantastic view of the white cliffs as we leave port - it's been ages since I've used Dover rather than Portsmouth. Windy but calm sea. Disembarking we take ages to get from port to Dunkirk, after a couple of false dawns, with a Steppes originated wind bearing down on us. After that it's a pleasant enough sunny if strenuous ride along country lanes past flat fields and canals a couple of which I swear we saw twice. My cub scout sun navigation tells me that we're often going in the wrong direction but to be fair to Pete (navigational duties for the trip, along with his phone) on inspecting Strava afterwards we only do a slight loop just feels a long way in this wind. As the sun sets we pop into a bar for a well earned beer and in broken English and Flemish work out how to get to our destination. As darkness falls the wind does too and we're soon arriving at the boat which is home for the night welcomed by intrepid cyclist Bart ("as in Simpson") who shows us around the main boat on the canal where we can help ourselves to a bit of nosh and beers paying into the honesty box. then Bart shows us our accommodation (thanks to Simon on housing duty and very well done both nights) which is a done up boat out of water on stilts. Very cosy. Four close bunks with crapper at the end of them with no partition except for a "modesty blind". The picture will tell you why none of us wanted to use it both to spare our blushes and to spare the others a terrible ordeal especially given Simon's bumper sized stock of hard boiled eggs. It's a dry loo with a bucket of hemp next to it (no, we didn't fancy smoking it) and a separate outlet (or inlet?) for the liquids. After all that excitement we go back to the main boat and rustle up something to eat and work our way through a few of the "if it says 8% that means at least 8% but could be more" local beers. Lovely they were too. After Chris, the 4th of our party coming in late as he's only just back from Brazil a few days ago, demonstrates a few dance moves, it's all back to ours for a nightcap passing the main boat residents on the way and then for a surprisingly good nights sleep with no one falling off the stairs on their way to the tree in the night.

Next day is sunny and windy and I pop down to the main boat for a shower. Simon preferring a dip in the canal. After left overs for breakfast I opt for shorts today and we have a lovely canal side cycle into Ypres which is all set up for the race to pass through plus a few other complimentary events in the main square. Kitted out with matching advertising cycle hats we find our extraordinarily friendly Hotel Ambrosia, well named, and then it's off to the main event of the weekend. The Gent Wevelgem is one of the Flanders early season classics making a loop of Flanders taking in a fair few cobbles including the Kemmelberg hill which is where we're heading towards. En route we find a WWI trench to visit which we have to crawl under the wire to get into which is a bit bizarre. The thought of spending months in that, and these were dry, doesn't bear thinking about. We see the women's race speed past, well the front group did although towards the back they're coasting a bit with an underage race marshal whistling them on. Next stop Kemmel to find a bar in the main square, take our shoes off and kick back in the warm sun. Couple of beers in the mens race comes past on the way up the Kemmelberg for the first time. After they're all past we four start our climb of the famous hill. Not long but damn steep in parts, 1 in 4, and the widely spaced cobbles don't help one bit. Two of us manage to successfully negotiate the hoards of spectators ruining our line of attack and climb the cobbles despite the back wheels spinning in between cobbles, how they can do this in the wet is beyond me, and reach the tarmac at the top which is blissful and feels like freewheeling for the last bit having left the cobbles behind. Simon and I have a weird coughing attack which must come with cobbled climbs but watching the race on a big screen, including a crash, and a few frites sorts that out and then we fight our way over the hill to see the mens race climb the other cobbled ascent. The leaders fly up barely sweating but the laggards, including a few with gashes on legs and arms, are really struggling a few look like they're about to grind to a halt. Of course they don't. These are professionals. After the crowds have died down we cycle down the cobbles myself very gingerly as firstly I'm a wimp when it comes to dangerous riding, OK, if you exclude going through central London twice a day, and secondly my ingenious quick release brake mechanism popped up on the way up disengaging the front brake and I was a mite worried both would pop up on the way down giving no braking power except metal cleated shoes hurtling down a 1 in 4 cobbled slope. Anyways I soon catch up with my less cautious riding mates and soon we're back in Kemmel where we watch the exciting race climax on telly and listen to old MOR songs blasting from a raucous bar, with a bit of Flemish punk to end with. Then it's a flat ride straight back into Ypres for a shower and chill out. Refreshed we wander down to the Menin Gate to gaze at the names of hundreds of thousands of British and commonwealth soldiers who died a hundred years ago and then listen to the daily Last Post ceremony. Very moving. After that it's getting nippy. We eat in our first restaurant of the weekend then retire to a bar for some strong dark and sour monk beers before toddling off for a comfortable nights sleep but not before a nightcap in the lobby and chatting to lots of talkative WWI site seeing folk.

We awake to what I think are early morning revellers returning home but in fact are school kids on the way into school. A great breakfast catering for their first vegan with a choice of milks and spreads. Lovely. Pocketing bananas for the journey we are off for an incident free ride up to Dunkirk docks in perfect riding conditions. Sunny with a breeze behind us. Just right temperature in short sleeved tops getting a little chilly on the arms when cruising down hill but warming up soon enough to just under breaking sweat temp. We cycle through beautiful if flat countryside and picturesque towns with regulation cathedral. In one we pay respects to those we've lost and then see archaeologists excavating skeletons just across from the cathedral. Dust to dust. We picnic by a river whilst Simon and Chris dip and would be great to have a couple of bottles of wine and while away the afternoon but we have to up and off as we've a ferry to catch and soon enough we're wheeling along a major road with trucks hurtling past on our way into the port. Uneventful crossing then a final beer at the pub by Dover station and back into town on the fast train. We say farewell to Pete and then Chris and Simon manage to lose me behind County Hall but hey, at least I can stretch my legs on the hill from Stockwell to Clapham on the Larkhall back route. Great trip with not too many miles but enjoyable enough.

Our clockwise route

Leaving Blighty

The White Cliffs

Tried to get the guys behind but missed

A hill!

Typical cathedral

Flanders Flat Fields

Comfort break

Shadows getting longer

Navigation stop - just before we pop into the bar to ask the way and have a beer

 

Beautiful sunset

Porthole view

View from our boat

Our accommodation

Jolly sailors

Simon in the galley

Privacy blind and bucket of hemp

Listening to the first WWI gas attack

Ypres Cathedral

Women's race coming through although not sure if an amateur one this one?

Simon and my beds

My shop directly opposite hotel

Hotel street

Hotel Ambrosia

Kemmelberg - steeper than it looks

Swinging upwards

Trenches

Trainee race co-ordinator

Head of the women's race

Chasing down

Suntrap Bar

Men's race start the first climb

Coming up the other side. Definitely steeper than this looks!

Hard work...

Outside our hotel

Amazing carved pulpit in small town church

Outside

Graveyard

View across the fields. All would have been mud craters and barbed wire a century ago.

Another which way moment

And yet another

Typical church with war memorial and shells

Simon swimming

Ah, if only we could spend all afternoon here

Back in Blighty

Sicily 2016

Family Autumn half term holiday without Maya who's newly installed in Colchester so it's me, Debbie, Jack and Lily-Rose. Leisurely and incident free journey to land at a lovely warm Palermo airport and that's when the fun begins. Google maps is useless for places like Sicily. Firstly the main E road isn't marked at all and we spend a while going in the right direction but through the centre of Palermo thinking we must have come off the main road. We hadn't. I think it's because Google gives the European road designation which the locals ignore. When we stop off at our destination of Campofelice di Roccella, at least the seafront part of it, the roads, well, pot holed tracks, down to the sea front are mostly blocked off with metal gates so we call our hosts and spend half hour or so cat and mousing trying to find each other. The side street names seem to be the same as the main streets making it very difficult to tell our hosts where we are. Eventually they find us, car stopping and very Italian accent asking "Jeem Woood?" and take us a round about way to our villa having to inch slowly through a Sicilian Bikers Rave at a pizza bar at the end of our road. Loud music, lines of hefty motor bikes and hundreds of even heftier greasers throng the beach road blocking off our road. We eventually manage to gently nudge obstinately stationary bikers out of the way squeezing the car between a BBQ bar and T shirt tent, neither of which I really wanted to dismantle especially with a hire car, and we are on the home straight. Or at least park right next to the party which I'm not altogether happy about. Our hosts are 3 young trendy guys who look like they've been reading up on the latest London beard and coiffure fashions. However they are lovely and friendly helping us with our bags even though it's now midnight. I guess they're just getting ready for a Saturday night out on the town. After a well deserved bottle of wine we hit the sack at 2am for a long sleep. It's broken firstly by the bikers rave and then by a massive thunderstorm and torrential rain but by the time we surface mid morning the worst of it is over and the sun's peeking out.

Sunday we wake late and Simon, Tom and Tilly C, who have joined us in Sicily staying just down the road, come over for the day. Simon, Jack and I do a big supermarket run, on a Sunday, in Italy!, and after lunch we walk along the beach to a sort of ruined castle, not Hendrix's, for a swim in the warm sea. Warm compared to Wales. The evening is spent in our kitchen gazebo with a lovely and hearty pasta and tomato sauce meal cooked by Debs and then drinking chatting and just chilling. Bed relatively early but it's been dark for ages.

Monday is a gorgeous day and after our usual breakfast of cereal, strong coffee and bread Simon and the kids come over and we all drive to Cefalu which is a lovely typical Sicilian seaside town overlooked by a massive rocky outcrop. The oversized old cathedral is fairly sparse inside compared to others although impressive nevertheless. We wander around and then hit the beach. Not the main long drag which is packed but a smaller beach at the far end and has a harbour wall ideal for diving into the crystal clear water. Debbie and I sneak off for a tasty meal of bruschetta and an aubergine dish washed down with beer for me and the local aperol bitter orangy drink. Once reunited with the rest we drive back home where on the awful local road near our place I manage to hit a block of concrete and burst the car tyre. Oddly two weeks after having a similarly unfixable bike tyre blow out. Have to put the spare on (luckily we have one in the boot) and then back to ours for a barbeque (well done for persevering Simon) and a couple of drinks to relax me after car tyre trauma. Another relaxing evening in the warm evening air. Would be short sleeved shirts and shorts if it wasn't for the mozzies ensuring we cover up. The kids with hoodies and gloves.

Cefalu and it's rock

Cats have riposo's too

Typical Sicilian street - bumper to bumper and washing

Tuesday morning is sunny as is every morning and we decide to have a lazy day on the local beach. Well, lazy for most but I'm calling car rental offices and then take the car into Campofelice to have the tyre replaced by a very friendly and efficient garage. By the time I'm back home it's scorching hot and soon after Simon and kids arrive we tootle down to the beach where we swim and hang out in the shade, or not, of one of the on beach bars. They aren't open this late in the year which is perfect as deserted and we can make use of the chairs and shade without having to buy drinks but can bring our own down. Sky is cloudless and it's really hot. Views are great along the beach and back to the mountains although they are very hazy. Back to ours for lunch orchestrated by Simon and then we drive up to our nearby town Campofelice di Roccella. It's pretty quiet except for a few old men hanging out on benches and we wander around the streets and then have granite (sorbets), ice cream and coffee overlooking the sea views trying to work out where our gaff is using the beach castle as a reference point. They only have two flavours of granite rather than the usual twenty as "ït's the end of the summer season". Seems pretty hot to us. After a game of table football we think of heading back. But by this time it's early evening and the stretch of pavement with the views is suddenly busy with locals partaking of that most continental of customs, promenading. So we ourselves promenade up and down nodding to locals and then wander back into town which is now buzzing with folk wandering about, shopping and generally getting on with life after the afternoon heat has kept them indoors. Unlike us, mad dogs...  Back home we go to the nearby bikers bar (thankfully empty of bikers) and are sent to the back of the establishment to the restaurant where we tuck into bruschetta, calamari and various pizzas and gnocchi. Simon's Sicilian is lost in the order so he hoovers up everyone's left overs. Then all back to ours for a game of truth truth lie and seeing as Debbie and Simon won't stop singing Kajagoogoo and Earth Wind and Fire songs we call it a night.

The kitchen - dad snoozing, Jack phoning

The house - Debbie and Lily-Rose relaxing

Campofelice di Roccella

Our beach from Campofelice

Sunset

Lost in thought

Wednesday morning is another fabulous day with a cloudless sky threatening full on heat today. We hang round our place all day with a beach excursion. The sea is lovely and we frolic about playing keepy uppy (hands), indulge in piggy back fights and build human pyramids. We didn't quite manage the 3 tier pyramid we were attempting and the highest we reached was Tilly on my shoulders. After that the JTT All Stars (Jim Tom Tilly) thrashed all comers in beach volleyball. Yay for team JTT! Afterwards we espy Debbie walking down the beach laden with all our stuff as she's lonely so we all have another quick dip to cool off and it's all back to ours. Simon and I via a walk up the beach and a quick drink at the local Bikers Bar (we're the only ones here) whilst a guy packs away all the tables and chairs from around us. Definitely the end of the holiday season. The seafront strip only has our bar open and the beach bars are looking the worse for wear. We assume that they get a lick of paint at the very least before opening up again next summer. The evening is spent playing games (verbal, not computers kids! Well done!) and Simon rustles up another lovely meal. Tomorrow is meant to be stormy and the clouds are certainly moving in and the wind picking up by the time we retire to bed.

Chillin in our personal beach bar

Beaches with mountains. Nice.

Eastwards towards our castle

The kitchen

Err. Yeah.

Thursday we plan to go into Palermo and the weather folks definitely got it right. Thunder and rain in the morning which sort of goes on all day. I go for a quick dip late morning in the sun but by the time we meet at the railway station the storm clouds are coming in again. Brand new station but they can't build a ticket off can they? Have to go across the main road and down a bit to a bar to buy tickets. Crazy. The ride into Palermo is pleasant enough with sea views on the right and massive rocky outcrops on the left. Coming into Palermo you really see how decaying the buildings are. Difficult to tell if they are actually decaying or just look like that as many are concrete with bits flaking off and the tops of the reinforcing steel rods jutting out. Palermo itself is also pretty run down and I wonder if the economy has got worse since the last time we were here a few years ago. Our first attraction is the via Roma where the girls are eagerly anticipating some full on Italian shopping Milan style. The best on offer is Lidl and an iron and toaster shop. OK so some of the shuttered shops may have had hidden fashionista gems inside and may have been shut for lunch. Talking of which we have great pizza and pasta at a cafe in one of the squares surrounding by civic and religious buildings. Lovely setting. The two frazzled waiters are stars and pull over a big umbrella cover thing when the rain starts. It's now set in for the afternoon and we wander through the streets down to the harbour which is busy with traffic and seems to be full of yachts of the rich and cruise ships. After afternoon tea, or rather coffee ice cream and cannoli (the local delicacy of brandy snap like tube filled with cheese cake type filling) we wander back to the train station through heavy rain. We are in plenty of time and luckily so as by the time we are due to depart there's standing room only and we leave about 30 minutes late. Who said that Italian's have the best train table record? It's dark and wet by the time we get home and the wind is whipping up but it's still warm enough to hang out in our outside kitchen where Debbie rustles up a variety of delicacies washed down with the last of the beer and nearly last of the summer's wine. And all my dark chocolate which given the absence of anything else the kids suddenly decide that they like the taste of. Our last evening together has us playing word games again, although with use of a phone for taboo, and after a quick dance lesson where myself and Simon show the kids how to do the dab whip and volks our friends eclectic depart in their authentic Sicilian Fiat and the Woods retire with the wind really whipping up a storm.

Palermo

North african influence

Palermo

Our last full day welcomes us with a bit of sun and a lot of breeze. Warm still though so we can't complain. It's the first time our wooden wind chime has made any noise. And it's dry. A lazy day just enjoying not having to do much at all before we return home and what will be a pretty full on week for us. We have a stroll along the sea front and what was a calm as a mill pond sea is now a raging torrent of breakers. And I scoffed at the shops selling surf boards. It's pretty atmospheric what with the wind surf and big black clouds hovering over the mountains behind us. Simon texts from his way to the airport to say he's got a busted tyre. Hopefully that's the third after my bike and car as these things come in threes. Rain tries a few times but doesn't really get going and the day is pleasant enough for lounging about though no fear of overheating or sunburn.

Campofelice from the beach

The beach looking westwards

Saturday really is our last day and we leave by 10am heading off into the mountains through beautiful countryside and amazing scenery as we hit cloud level. We're about 1,700 metres up which is higher than Ben Nevis. The roads are potholed and have fallen rocky debris all over them. At one point I go right over a rock which makes a horrible noise as the base of the car glides over and we have a strange squeeky sound for a few miles which thankfully goes away. Makes us nervous about spending too long up here. We reach Petralia Soprana which is a lovely terra cotta-ed town nestled half way up a mountain and we stop for a coffee. Parking is awful and we soon discover why as it's market day and the main narrow cobbled street up through town is lined with stalls selling everything from garden tools to jewellry. And food. Lots of it to eat there or take away. In the higher square we sit at a cafe veranda overlooking the rooftops below, looking up at the mountains with their personal clouds sitting on them and looking down through the valley below. Gorgeous. Cold though at this height! We wander back down through some ancient narrow lanes and then head back to the sea and to the airport, trying unsuccessfully to stop off in little towns for lunch. So we have a bite at the airport celebrating the successful return of the hire car and settle down for a long wait for our flight. Late take off but makes up time and then we return from Stansted to Balham in a luxurious people carrier dozing whilst glimpsing the madness of activity that is central London at 2am. Soon home and after calling for Casper, unsuccessfully though he does make his presence known half way through the night, we settle down in our own beds for a peaceful sleep away from biker parties and thunderstorms.

Up in the mountains which have personal clouds

Snow height poles obviously missed by someone

No wonder mafiosa hid away up in this area

Petralia Soprana

For a lot more photos look here:
https://goo.gl/photos/MFC9AhyWHmhBbgDX9